


time after time

by copenhagenborn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M, Slight Hendall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:43:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copenhagenborn/pseuds/copenhagenborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can't even remember your own band mate Nialler? 'm disappointed."</p><p>He turns around, mouth crooked and pink at he finally meets Niall's eye. "Thought you had missed me or sumwat."</p><p>It's like breathing through a straw, his chest restricted as he take in the sight before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time after time

"Basil? That's you? Thought you'd be long gone by now!" Niall yells, pulling at his tie until he can throw it to the ground - Ellie's gunna kill him, but it's late and he's had one too many - "now's about the time you say something Bas."

He starts to worry when the door closes and there's still no sound.

Stumbling to the hall of his hotel room, Niall finds someone leaning against the door, back facing him.

"Uh, are ya lost mate? Don't think this is your room," Niall calls softly. He's squinting at the figure, but his vision is blurred.

"Can't even remember your own band mate Nialler? 'm disappointed."

He turns around, mouth crooked and pink at he finally meets Niall's eye. "Thought you had missed me or sumwat."

It's like breathing through a straw, his chest restricted as he take in the sight before him.

Harry in a trivial black tee-shirt, black jeans and his short hair pushed back, away from his forehead. Nothing like the Harry he saw the last time they met up; no floral shirts made of sheer fabrics, white jeans, even his long curls has been sheared, leaving nothing to remember him by.

"Thought you were in France," he says instead. Clearing his throat from the lump forming there. "Doing that film of yours, yeah?"

Harry looks to the ground, smile coy, and Niall's sure that if he could, he would blush. But that's long gone now, six years of one direction and nothing's gunna make you embarrassed.

"Heard about that, have you?"

"Would be the only one who didn't," Niall snorts, feeding that ego of his and indulging him one last time - as if he'd ever stopped. "Scorsese's little up and comer-"

"It's Nolan, actually."

"What?"

"The director? It's not Scorsese, but Christopher Nolan." Harry corrects with a smile. He moves with his usual lack of grace, moving into the main room as he sheds his jacket. "But I mean, who cares?" Harry laughs drily, dropping down in the couch.

"I mean Nolan probably does, he has what, one Oscar nomination while Scorsese has at least one win and about a thousand-"

"That's not the point, yeah?" Harry says curtly. His eyes squeezed together, jaw tense as he pulls air in through his nose.

"'m sorry mate, I was just kidding." Niall tries softly, falling down into the cushion beside him. He pulls off the suit jacket, throwing it over the back of the sofa, before leaning into Harry's side.

Harry takes a deep breath, his face finally relaxing as he puts an arm around Niall.

"'s just, there's been so much critique lately, you know? People are so mad about everything and I just thought you be my safe haven."

"Of course Haz, I'm always there if you need me. It's just, we haven't really heard for you either of us, you didn't tell us about the movie; hell I didn't even know about the hair until Laura texted me."

He doesn't mean to sound mad, even if that's what he wants to. Because he knows Harry, knows it better to pull when he's giving than pushing when he doesn't want you to. He's been through tour breaks for so many years that he knows how he tends to retreat into himself, surrounding himself with such a different crowd than the people they are on tour with. So Niall knew what to expect when the official hiatus began and Harry ventured to LA, but total radio silence wasn't it.

"It's a two way street you know? Like, have you been to see Freddie? He's such a lad, looking so much like Louis it's insane. And Sandy's wedding, our footie match; you haven't said anything to either of us and that shit!"

"Niall, 'm an actor now, I have to focus on the movie; and it's a war film Niall, so I have to be fit for the shirtless shots," Harry whines, his voice quiet but not apologetic.

"Yeah, because I've been so fucking lazy the last couple of month."

He's on his feet before Harry had the chance to reply, his slow words failing him as he tries to explain himself.

"You wouldn't understand-"

But Niall's had enough. Tearing the dress shoes off and pulling the suit trousers off and folding them carefully on the dresser. "I've had a long day, so I'm gunna go to bed now. If you aren't done with the while monologue thing, you can continue it out in the hallway."

But turning around, Niall finds Harry standing right behind him, his head nothing but a centimetre away. "Don't be mad at me, Niall." He says sadly, moving closer till he can rub his nose along Niall's jaw. Soft movements as his hands creep up his side. "That's not why I came here." He whispers, voice soft and low as if he's telling Niall a secret no one else knows.

Niall chokes, breaths coming out harsh as Harry's hands wanders. "W-why did you come then?" He stutters, cheeks burning up in the shining glow of the moon.

Harry leans in, lips finally touching the soft skin of Niall's pale cheek; mapping out the moles there with soft kisses.

"I've thought about this for a while, you know. Coming here, surprising you in your hotel room." He says breathlessly, fingers expertly opening Niall's shirt. "Thought about coming during that footie aid of yours, wait in your hotel room."

"It's soccer aid, actua-" Niall whines when he finally gets his hands under his shirt, calloused fingers rubbing at his nipple.

"Imagine Louis' surprise if he found us in the morning. He doesn't even know you swing both ways, what a surprise that would be," Harry purrs.

They're throwing their shirts to the ground, stumbling to the bed with a lack of grace Niall hasn't seen since the two of them were at a golf course together.

It's not the firsts time Harry's come to him for sex. Back when the both of them had their first time; Niall losing his virginity to a girl, and Harry after their fame from X-factor finally getting to try sex with a guy. When Harry was painting him auditory pictures with nothing but his words and lips, making young Niall blush and hard in his trousers.  
Harry seducing him with promises of keeping his secret and worlds of pleasure if Niall let him. And then ever since the both of them were between girlfriends, too tired to go out for the night, to vain to call up someone they already knew.

Niall's on his back on the bed, trouser and pants discarded on the floor; Harry straddling his thighs with his fingers deep inside himself.

Niall's never been good at telling Harry no, he's not good at telling anyone he loves no; but least of all the people he's spent years falling out of love with only to be pulled back in for a lone night ones in a while.

Harry bottoms out, lip between his teeth as his calm posture finally breaks down to make way for a curse word.

"'s that French?" Niall pants, hips stuttering faster at the way his lips curl around the words. A small sheen of sweat already gathering between his brow.

"You pick up a thing or two while you're there," Harry laughs, his grin wide and teasing as he rotates his hip just right, tightening his arse and making Niall yell out.

"Fuck that's hot, Haz. Been taking classes, have you? Fucking some French twink in between shots, walking funny in front of the great Christopher Nolan because you had a cock up your arse the day before?"

He's being dumb, an idiot for letting Harry get away with treating them like this, treating him like a bloody toy he can pick up whenever he's feeling bored. But there's no turning back now, not when Harry's taking him so beautifully.

Harry comes on his chest, teeth tearing his lips apart until they bleed, his voice raw as he begs Niall to come; his words such a juxtaposition, beautifully spoken, but oh so fucking dirty when you really listen.

And Niall comes, as if on demand. Pulling Harry down, lips pressing against lips, as his hips stutters one last time.

They stay like that for a while; chests together, Harry's head tucked underneath Niall's, dicks soft and spent, until the come dries and Niall pushes him to the loo to clean up.

"You're not sleeping in my bed like that mate, wash up or stay on the couch," Niall slurs, but his lips are spread in a wide grin.

He follows Harry to the loo, sitting him down on the counter before cleaning him with a cloth; telling him to stand to get the rest.

They lay down, Harry's back to his chest, fingers wound together as they drift off one by one. Until there's nothing but deep breaths between them.

(-)

The idyl is gone when Niall wakes.

Harry's already dressed, not in the plain tee and jeans as he had been before. No, a soft pattern blouse and well fitting jeans are adoring his legs, hair artfully pushed back in something so effortlessly stylish Niall hasn't seen his hair was that short, back then.

"You going somewhere?" Niall yawns, arms long as he stretching. His head is pounding from last nights drinking and dehydration. But he sits up, hands seeking to pull Harry back into his lap for a repeat performance before he had to go meet up with Bobby. "Could get us some brekkie, maybe a bit of brunch if the time's right."

But Harry's smiling softly, the smile be uses to break bad news, like when he had told him about Zayn leaving; when Louis was hiding away crying and Liam yelling at Zayn.

"I think I'm going back to France, Niall." He tells him softly. He sits down at the edge of the bed, taking Niall's hand in his.

"I thought you had the week off, you said you were staying in London, meeting up with Nick; pop back in with Anne and Gemma." Niall replies confused, pulling his hand from Harry's, "that's what you told me last night."

"It's - it's hard to explain Niall. Something came up and-"

"Who is it? Who's in France, Harry? Is it Jeff? Xander?"

Harry snorts, like there's something to be laughed about. "I'm not even friends with him anymore."

"Harry."

He sighs, moving closer as if his touch can apologies for his actions. "Kendall's doing a show in Paris, and she wants me to meet up with her, Cara and Gigi."

Niall laughs, harsh, disbelieving. "And you accepted, of course. Why wouldn't you?"

"It's not like that and you know it."

"What I do know Harry, is that you time after time choose everyone else before me, and I'm so mad that it took me this to really realise it." Niall says, his voice monotonous as he stands up from the other side of the bed. "You should really go now, probably got a plane to catch or something."

"I'm flying private, Niall, you know that-"

"So not the point, twat!" Niall yells angrily. "You know Liam did mention something about your treatment of us, how you haven't called, haven't even texted a congrats to Louis when Freddie was born. But the stupid fool I am kept defending you - joke's on me isn't it?"

"Niall, I'm sorry. You know I lov-" Harry trying to move closer, hands reaching for him.

"Don't you fucking dare say that to me right now, not when you're leaving me for someone else!" Niall screams. He can feel the pricks of tears at the corner of his eyes, but he wills them to stay back, doesn't want to give him the satisfaction. "Why can't you just leave?! Get the hell out, NOW!"

He leaves then, doesn't linger like Niall might have thought he would; leaving nothing but the slamming door and his breaking heart behind. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you're reading this, then the story isn't read through yet and I apologise for mistakes :)


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